


The Waves Are Crashing Down On You and Me (Again)

by hazel_louise



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Drinking, Drug Use, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Party, Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, coffee shop AU, eddie works at a coffee shop, no clown - okay they're all happy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_louise/pseuds/hazel_louise
Summary: There’s a coffee shop stuffed haphazardly into the back corner of the library.  It’s not much to look at, just a counter pressed up against a back wall with barley enough space for two workers. There’s a couple of leather-worn chairs and tables for a study area in front of the counter and signs scattered everywhere, reminding students that the coffee shop was “eco friendly!” and encouraged students to bring reusable coffee mugs.Richie doesn't mean to fall in love at that coffee shop. Really.(He does anyway.)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	1. Richie Tozier Meets The One

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning Notes:  
> Hi everyone!! Thank you for clicking on this fic!! It’s my first one so feedback is appreciated!! 
> 
> See the end for notes!

There’s a coffee shop stuffed haphazardly into the back corner of the library. It’s not much to look at, just a counter pressed up against a back wall with barley enough space for two workers. There’s a couple of leather-worn chairs and tables for a study area in front of the counter and signs scattered everywhere, reminding students that the coffee shop was “eco friendly!” and encouraged students to bring reusable coffee mugs. 

A worn chalkboard sign displays the shop’s name: “Township Coffee”. There’s a doodle of a brown-haired man below the name with a cartoon speech bubble saying “it’s FLU SEASON! Please use the hand sanitizer provided!!” 

The cartoon makes Richie smile. He doesn’t know why. 

It's just a dusty coffee shop on the best of days and packed full of caffeine - crazed university students on the worst of days. 

Richie doesn't mean to fall in love at that coffee shop. Really. 

(He does anyway.)

_______________  
It’s a blistering Tuesday the first time Richie blows into the library, making a beeline for the coffee shop. The cold stained his nose and cheeks a bright pink, glasses fogging up as he steps out of the cold and into a cloud of warm, stuffy library air. Headphones are stuffed deep in his ears, a rock song blaring so loudly that one of the coffee shop’s workers glances up from his work, glaring. 

Richie shuffles into line behind a tired blonde girl, uncaring. He’s too busy double checking a text from Stan that he almost doesn't hear the barista call “next!”

“Hi yeah sorry,” Richie stumbles forward, pulling out one of his earphones, and nearly tripping over his own feet. He doesn't look up at the barista. “Can I get..uh...two coffees? One with milk and one sugar and one with like, twenty, sugars, please. Like as much sugar as you’re legally allowed to give me.” 

Richie shoves a hand through his mess of curls quickly before patting his pants pockets, searching for his wallet.

“You’re going to get type two diabetes.” 

“Huh?” The comment makes Richie’s head snap up for the first time, the search for his wallet forgotten. His eyes land on an (unfairly attractive) boy standing behind the counter, holding a sharpie up against an empty coffee cup. Soft looking hair, big brown eyes, and “take - me - now” pink, pillow lips have a choir of cupids singing in Richie’s head. 

“From all the sugar,” the boy explains, his tone clipped and informative. He sets aside the coffee cup and picks up a new one. 

“Oh,” Richie replies, stupidly. “Are you pre-med?” Anything to keep the cute barista talking. 

“Hardly,” the barista wrinkled his nose, “name?”

“Yours? Yes. Please.” Richie successfully pulls his wallet out of his bag and threw a lopsided smile at the barista. A barista who looked decidedly unimpressed and unwilling to divulge his name. Shit. 

“Trashmouth - with - glasses.” the barista pointedly scribbled each word onto the empty coffee cup as he spoke. 

“What's wrong with my glasses?” Richie interjected, his smile unfaltering. “Trashmouth?” He adds, mostly out of bewildered joy and confusion. More than a cute face, this barista had a silver tongue, and it was doing things for Richie.

“That’ll be eight dollars and thirty cents,” The barista holds out his hand, expectantly - so prim and proper in a way that makes Richie suddenly aware of his hunched back throbbing.

Richie hands over the cash leaning forward into the baristia’s space. “Ouch!” Richie feigns, “Oh! He crushed my heart! I will never recover!” Richie clutches his jacket, right over his heart, and places a hand over his forehead stilling into a perfect tableau of heartbreak. 

“You’re an idiot.” The barista deadpans, but Richie swears he sees a small smile grace the barista’s lips. 

“So I’m not getting that name?” Richie asks, dropping out of the tableau and reaching for his change.

“No,” the barista agrees, “you’re not.” 

He drops a few coins into Richie’s hand and the curly-haired boy moves down the counter towards where another barista is making his coffee. Keenly aware of the smartmouthed cutie behind him, who already has turned to the next customer. 

____________  
The next time Richie sees the cute barista, it’s a Friday afternoon. He slips into the library before his lecture, headphones stuffed into his ears and music blaring too loud. If Richie spent more time than strictly necessary on his hair this morning - well, that’s his business.

And if his pulse quickens at the sight of the barista from the other day - well, then that’s also his business. And his lips are sealed shut.

“My name’s Richie by the way.” Richie says casually this time as he pulls out his wallet face to face once again with the cute barista. He’s super casual about it, too. Riche’s the king of casual conversation making. 

The barista says nothing in response, which Richie is slow to admit disappoints him slightly. But when Richie stretches out his hand for his change, the barista says “Eddie” quietly but unmistakably. 

Richie suddenly feels like he’s flying. He turns and moves down the counter in a stupor.

“And use the hand sanitizer!” Eddie’s voice cuts sharply through Richie’s haze. When Richie turns around, he sees that Eddie is pointing at a large bottle of hand sanitizer sitting on the edge of the counter right in front of Richie. 

Richie grins at the sight of the bottle. It really is a ridiculously large bottle of hand sanitizer. Probably the largest one available at the drugstore. 

“Aye, laddie!!!” Richie shouts in his (perfected) British voice. A for sure crowd pleaser. “Gotta kill al ‘em germs, ehhhh laddiie??”’

Eddie rolls his eyes but looks secretly pleased with himself when Richie deals out a large glob of hand sanitizer out into his hands. 

Richie’s late to his next lecture. 

His coffee cup still says “trashmouth” on it. 

_________  
Richie gets Eddie to smile for real a couple of weeks into Richie’s coffee shop visits. A real toothy, head-thrown-back-in-laughter kind of smile that made Richie’s knees weak and eyes slightly watery. 

It’s a particularly cold day in November when Richie steps into the library, he notices a line much longer than usual, wrapping itself around the leather chairs. Richie saddled into line, hiking his backpack higher onto his shoulders. Well, it’s to be expected really. With the weather becoming increasingly colder a higher volume of students is to be expected. And with that understanding so came the expectation that Richie could monopolize less of Eddie’s time and attention. 

“Hey-a Eds, busy?” Richie asks once he’s shuffled his way to the front of the line. 

“Don't call me that,” Eddie snaps, more of an automatic response than anything else. “I’m overwhelmed,” He admits looking up at Richie through long lashes, his shoulders slumping. God he was cute. 

“Yeah too many of them, huh?” Richie hands Eddie a few dollars. He leans in closer to the barista and grins wolfishly. “Wanna team up and kill a few of them?”

There's a moment where Eddie stares at him before he throws back his head and laughs. His laugh is low and guttural, straight from the chest in a surprise flash of pure joy. There’s a snort in the middle of the laugh in a horrible unattractive habit that makes Richie’s chest flush with heat and fill with deep affection. 

“I’d be so into that,” Eddie confesses leaning forward into Richie’s space. And, oh, Richie was helpless but to yield to the other boy’s addictive orbit. “Which one first?”

“How about,” Richie glances around at the other students quickly, “That snotty guy in the red sweatshirt?”

Eddie looked over Richie’s right shoulder at the aforementioned snotty second year standing by the compost bins. The snotty boy had unfortunately tired eyes and was obviously sick enough to be home in bed resting but was obviously trying to tough out the cold with coffee and cough medicine. 

Eddie wrinkled his nose in disgust, “Absolutely. He’s not even bothering to wear a mask.”

“A mask?” Richie asks, Eddie’s eyes snapping back to the tall boy in front of him. “Do you wear a mask when you get sick Eddie spaghetti?” 

“What! No - uh - I’m just saying,” Eddie’s cheeks turn a bright red much to Richie’s absolute delight. “That guy is obviously spreading millions of germs - to the - to US, do you know how many germs are released on average in one sneeze? It’ll shock you.”

Richie is absolutely smitten with the boy in front of him talking a million miles an hour. Nothing could have ripped him away from this conversation, except for the high pitched voice of a girl behind him sighing “let’s move!”

Instead, he throws an apologetic smile at Eddie and says “Damn. Guess it’s that guy’s lucky day.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “He gets to live another week.”

________  
The thing is - Richie sort of becomes obsessed with Eddie’s laugh after that. He starts skipping class and spends more time at Township coffee. He spends every free second with his hip pressed against the counter chatting to his favorite barista. Richie tells jokes, some better than others admittedly. (A couple of ‘your mom’ jokes makes Eddie yell in disgust and throw Richie out, albehit with a stupid wide grin and a coffee.) Or he needles Eddie into explaining exactly how he makes every type of coffee on the menu, just because he likes Eddie’s voice and the way the sunlight lightens the tips of his hair into a late day’s golden halo. 

Richie does very little to hide his disappointment on a Tuesday when after flouncing into the library with a radiant Ms. Beverly Marsh next to him to find he is not greeted by Eddie’s cute little face peeking out from the counter. 

“Where’s Eddie?” Richie demands the second he can get up to the counter, pushing past other students and leaving behind Bev in the process. 

“Richie! Hey!” She yells, slamming into his back and jostling Richie painfully into the counter. He doesn’t care though, only fixated on the (not-Eddie) barista in front of him. 

“Where’s Eddie?” Richie asks again. In front of him stands a tall boy of medium-build with brown hair and a definitive air of authority surrounding him. (Eddie’s manager? Or perhaps just one of those guys who get people to do things for him just by asking. Richie can’t manage that - only gets people to bend to his will through cheap charm and trading favors.)

“He’s not working today,” The barista who Richie now recognized as the boy who always hands him his coffee whenever Eddie is working the cashier. Bill, is his name if Richie’s memory was correct. 

“Who’s Eddie?” Bev asks, peering up at Richie’s face, “Rich? Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

“But - he always works at this time,” Richie says helplessly. 

“He had to trade with Ben,” Bill glances over his shoulder, “Hey Ben? Why’d Eddie have to trade?” 

A tall boy with kind eyes made his way up the counter, glancing at Richie before his eyes landed on angle - faced Beverly beside him who was still hissing questions about Eddie she expected Richie to answer. 

“Hi,” the boy - Ben - says softly, turning his kind, gentle face towards Beverly. “Your hair - um - it’s it’s very nice.”

“Oh!” Bev turned away from Richie, “thank you.” She met Ben with a curious expression on his face, analyzing the barista cooly in only the way Ms. Marsh could. 

“Listen,” Richie slid his upper body across the counter, effectively blocking Bev from Ben’s sight by pure mass. “I hate to interrupt this - I really do. But if we could get back to the main point? Where’s Eddie?”

“He’s uh he’s studying upstairs I think? He has an exam so he asked me to cover his shift today. Hey - are you that loudmouth he’s always talking about? The one who comes in and always flirts with - ”

“D-d-do you want me to text him?” Bill interrupts, pulling his phone from his back pocket and already tapping away without waiting for confirmation from Richie. 

“Bill I could marry you.” Richie proclaimed, leaning back away from the counter and rocking backwards on his feet. 

“Too bad you’ve already given your heart to another,” Bill grins and puts his phone down onto the counter. He grabs a cup next to the cash machine, and fills it with hot water before dropping a camomile tea bag into it. “He’s on the third floor. Here’s his favorite tea.”

Richie barely says “thank you” before grabbing the tea and racing for the elevator; Bev hot on his tail - laughing wild and wicked the whole way.


	2. Beverly Marsh Betrays Richie Tozier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! Thank you for clicking on this fic!! It’s my first one so feedback is appreciated!! 
> 
> See the end for notes!

“Is that him? Oh, he’s cute!!” Bev hisses into Richie’s ear, perfectly painted nails digging into his forearm. They’re tucked behind a bookshelf on the third floor, peering through a break in the books to look at Eddie tucked behind a laptop, typing furiously. 

He looks nice, Richie notices. It’s the first time Richie’s seen him outside of his barista’s apron and Eddie looks comfortable and confident in an oversized light blue sweatshirt. 

Richie’s mouth is dry. 

“Yeah that’s him. What should I do?” He’s sweating. There’s a cute boy sitting at a table barely a yard away and Richie’s sweating like a dog in heat. God - someone help him. “Do I just walk over there and hand him the cup? Isn’t that kind of weird?”

“You’ve been flirting with him for - apparently weeks now?” Bev says in a voice that is much too loud for a library. Richie jumps and pushes her deeper into the book stack, praying silently that Eddie didn’t hear and look around. “Just go up and say hi! I’m sure he won’t be too upset if you just go and sit next to him.”

That all seemed way too simple for Richie. From his experience, walking up to people and sitting next to him wasn’t exactly how you got people to talk to you. But seriously, the tea was burning his hand and what choice did he have? Bev had apparently already made his decision for him.

(But - he had already spent weeks flirting with the boy.) 

The only difference here was there was no counter between them. 

(How big of a difference could that make?)

A big, BIG difference Richie learned as he stepped out from behind the bookshelf and began to make his way towards Eddie. Somehow, Eddie was simultaneously too close and too far away. 

And Richie’s such an idiot! Yes, he’s been flirting with the coffee shop cutie for weeks but what if Eddie was just being nice the whole time? Talking to appease the loudmouthed customer. But here in the real-world, Eddie had no reason to speak to Richie. No social convention dictated that he had to talk to Richie away from the counter of the coffee shop three floors below. 

“Richie?” a soft voice. Richie had apparently reached his destination, numbly unaware of his travels due to his panic. Eddie now sat directly in front of Richie. 

No counter in between them. 

(To hell with it, Richie thought dimly.)

“Hiya Eds,” he says, voice croaking slightly. Richie laughed weakly and wet his lips. “I was getting bored of our role-play positions. So I decided to serve you.” He set the cup down on the table in front of Eddie and prayed that his joke landed. 

“You brought me coffee?” Eddie asked, sitting back from his computer and staring at the cup as if it had offended him. 

“No!” Richie quickly corrected. “No..um, it’s tea. Chamomile. Your favorite.” 

“Tea?” Eddie asked again, voice small. Richie cursed himself silently. This was going great. 

(Really great.)

“That’s so nice of you, thank you.” Eddie stared up at Richie and smiled. And it wasn’t Richie’s fault that he was so gone on this guy. Not when Eddie had the audacity to be so perfect and real and just out of Richie’s reach. 

“Hi! I’m Bev, one of Richie’s friends!” Eddie was now paying attention to Beverly who had appeared over his right shoulder, standing in front of Richie and slightly off the side to Eddie. “Mind if we join you?”

Bev’s smile was sickly-sweet, kind in a way that lowered Eddie’s defenses but pushy enough that he gave into her will. Richie thought back to Bill, a natural born leader stuck in a coffee shop and distantly he thinks that Bill’s persuasive power is nothing like Beverly Marsh’s. 

“Sure. I don't mind.” No sooner had the words left Eddie’s lips then Bev was shoving Richie out of her way and plopping down into the chair across from Eddie’s and throwing her back into the seat next to her. 

Richie dumbly started at the scene in front of him. Distinctly aware that his only option at this point was to go and sit next to Eddie. 

______________  
Richie was pretty sure he didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of punishment. At least not to Beverly Marsh.

She hadn’t said anything in the past hour 

(HOUR!)

of the trio studying. She did, however, keep sending significant looks towards Richie over the top of her notebook. 

After an hour and a half of sweating on Richie’s side 

(oh god did he smell? He hoped Eddie couldn't smell him.) 

A loud buzz from Richie’s phone jarred Richie. He jumped and slammed his knee against the table, grunting in pain. Eddie (the bastard) giggled beside him. 

The text on Richie’s phone was not worth the bruised knee. 

Ms. Beverly Marsh: ask him when his test is!! 

RICHIE: y?? 

Ms. Beverly Marsh: soooo if it’s this week you can invite him to my party this Friday!!

RICHIE: NO. WAY.

Ms. Beverly Marsh: Do it! Fast. You have class in 10 min. 

Richie swore outloud. 

(Remember Richie’s passing thought about Beverly’s persuasive powers? It's a gilded law now.) 

“Hey um - Eddie?” Richie leaned towards the boy, “Whens your test?” He whispered. 

“Thursday, now shut up!” Eddie whispered back, leaning towards Richie so that his words would carry over. Unfortunately, that meant that Eddie’s face was impossibly close to Richie’s. 

Eddie smelled like sunshine and vanilla. (Did sunshine have a sent?)

“Great, ‘cuz Bev was wondering if you wanted to come to her party on Saturday?” Richie’s leg began to bounce in anticipation, “Only - only if you want of course!” Richie wet his lips and breathed out slowly, willing his nerves to die down. 

“Will...will you be there?” Eddie asked, sunshine threatening to overwhelm Richie’s senses. He almost missed the way Eddie’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed nervously. Almost. But Richie caught the movement and was transfixed by the discovery. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Richie grinned. 

“I’ll come then.” Eddie decided. His fingers were twitching, still placed on the keys of his laptop. 

“Awesome! Here, write down your number and Richie will text you the details!” Bev appeared behind Richie and Eddie’s faces, scaring the boys as they leapt apart. Guilt cracked itself on Richie’s head and spread down his body like a cold, miserable egg. Bev, in the meantime, pushed a pen and paper at Eddie who began to scrawl down his number. 

Richie shoved his notebooks into his backpack and jumped over the back of his chair. “And bring your cute friend,” Bev added, grabbing the paper from Eddie before turning to walk away. “From the coffee shop!”

Richie threw a salut at Eddie mouthing “sorry, class” before peeling away to follow Bev. When he caught up with her, he ripped the paper out of her hands grinning like mad. “You evil girl!” He laughed, “I am appalled!!”

“Oh please,” Bev flipping her hair over her shoulder and matching Richie’s smile easily.  
“I’m the reason you have his number! And!! And!! He’s coming to my party.”

“Your party,” Richie remembered, dizzy from the memory, “He’s going to be at your party.” 

Bev laughs before getting on the elevator. Leaving behind her, arguably, stupidest friend.

_____________  
“And since I know each and every one of you is so sad to have Richie time come to a close,” Richie purrs into his mic on Saturday night, “here is one more song to appease all my fans. Have a good night!”

Richie hits a button on his command board and leaned back in his chair as the opening notes of “Take On Me” floats through the speakers. It was the end of one of Richie’s shows at the university’s radio station. The radio station was cozy and employed only a handful of students, allowing Richie to have full control over his own show as long as he didn’t say anything too inappropriate. 

“That’s me,” Richie says to Casey, the blonde girl sitting in an employee waiting area outside of the studio. She had her show on after Richie’s and played the audience into the early hours of the morning. “I’ve got to run but I’ll see you on Monday, ya?” Richie doesn't wait for Casey’s response before he’s shoving his coat and backpack on and is out the door. 

Tonight, Richie knew, was Bev’s party. 

Tonight, Richie knew, Eddie would be there. In a few short hours; Eddie.

The pair has texted briefly over the past four days. Mostly Richie sent him the details to the party and shitty memes. But sometimes they had actual conversations. One time Eddie even sent a “good luck with your show tonight! :)” text. 

That was nice. It was a nice text to recieve. 

And that’s all Richie’s going to say about that. 

Richie ran practically all the way to Bev’s apartment off campus. He climbed the stairs two at a time, anticipation and excitement sitting on the edge of his tongue, pushing him faster towards Bev’s apartment down the hall. 

“If it isn't who you were all waiting for!! RICHARD TOZIER!!” Richie bellows as he slams open Bev’s door, greeted by the sight of Stan and Mike sitting by the fridge and ice into bowls. “The CROWD GOES WILD!! WHOOOO” Richie cups his hands around his mouth, whisper screaming and shutting Bev’s door with one, long leg extended behind him.

“Oh god,” Stan groans quietly, standing up and moving towards the counter so that his back was facing Richie. He started to organize something on the counter. 

“Richie?” Mike asked from his place on the floor, he paused from his duties and regarded Richie with warm eyes. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Richie had shed his coat and backpack, haphazardly throwing them onto the couch. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” He asks, glancing down. Richie was wearing black skinny jeans and a gray sweater, tastefully distressed. Bev bought him the sweater a few months ago when they had gone shopping. She insisted the sweater matched his completion. Okay so maybe Richie had thrown some product into his hair and rubbed some of Stan’s lotion into his face. 

But Richie felt good. He looked good. Despite the embarrassing confession of having actually put effort into his outfit. 

“It’s what you’re not wearing,” Mike laughs, “dude where’s your ugly party shirt?” 

Richie was notorious for wearing a bright orange hawianan shirt to every party. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Hawiaan shirts were a staple of Richie’s outfits but the party shirt was something else entirely. “What?” He says, starting to feel self conscious “Can’t a guy change things up occasionally?” 

“Leave him alone! His crush is coming!” Bev walks out of her room towards her friends looking lovely as ever and a flowy dress and shimmering eyeshadow. 

“Crush?” Mike asked, eyebrows raising and eyes never leaving Richie’s face. As if the boy’s facial expressions could incriminate himself. Well - they probably already did. 

“His name’s Eddie and he works at Township Coffee,” Bev makes her way over to the counter, ruffling her hands into Stan’s perfectly laid hair. 

“So that’s where he’s been running off to every week?” Stan asks, grinning and play batting away Bev’s hands. “That’s why you asked me to borrow my moisturizer?” 

“I plead the fifth!” Richie declares, grabbing his bag and coat from the couch, “I’m throwing these in your room Miss. Mouthy!” He shoots at Bev. 

She only laughed in response. “Better hurry! Your boyfriend is going to be here any moment now.” 

Richie laughed, too. Mostly out of habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter......The Party!!! 
> 
> And.....Something more?
> 
> Stay tuned to find out!


	3. Richie Tozier Bags The One

Richie was not okay. 

“Oh my god, Stan he’s here!” Richie grabbed Stans arm and attempted to whisper into his ear. But the mix of nerves and alcohol ended up in Richie stumbling forward and shouting into Stan’s poor ear. 

What Richie somehow failed to consider was that Stan’s eyes were functioning perfectly, thank you very much, and he could see the newcomer. 

Eddie stood, perhaps a bit awkwardly by the door. He looked jaw-droppingly hot in Richie’s humble opinion. Eddie’s hair was combed neatly, he was wearing a yellow sweater and red shorts. His shorts were only visible because of a fanny pack weaved through the belt loops of his shorts, pushing up one side of his sweater. 

“And!” Bev added, pressing herself again Stan’s other side and pressing her forehead against Richie’s. The three of them, pressed so closely together must have looked like a gaggle of school girl’s giggling over a boy. “He brought his cute friend with him!”

It was true. Flanking Eddie on the other side were Bill and Ben from the coffee shop. Bill looked cool, unphased as if parties were a usual occurrence for him. Ben looked a bit more unnerved, chatting rapidly with Bill but not looking at him. Instead his eyes were fixed on Bev’s profile. 

“Which one is the cute one?” Stan raised an eyebrow at his friend, grinning despite himself. 

“The shorter of Eddie’s two friends,” Bev sighed, “In the blue!”

“You’re too far out of his league,” Richie declared to Bev’s muted arguments. 

“No one is good enough for our dear Bev,” Stan sighed, wrapping his arms around his two best friends and leaning back to look at the ceiling. Maybe Stan was more drunk than he thought. “But it looks like he’s gonna need help even trying.”

“Richie go talk to him,” Bev turned her bright green eyes onto her tall, lanky body. “Please? For me?”

“Absolutely,” Richie grinned, throwing back the rest of his drink. The alcohol warm in his belly giving him just enough courage to stare into the face of insanity. “But only because it’s a good enough excuse to get me over there!”

Eddie’s friends scattered as soon as they saw Richie approaching from across the room. A fact which seemed to cause Eddie great alarm if his body language had anything to say about it, his eyebrows shooting up and his shoulders dropping in surprise. But Richie couldn’t read body language. Instead, he thought that Eddie looked a bit like a spooked kitten.

Adorable. 

“Eddie - spaghetti,” Richie cried, crowding into Eddie’s space once he gets over to the smaller boy. “I heard someone has a crush.”

“Oh?” Eddie responds, pulling a red solo cup closer to his chest. He looked nervous. “Who?”

“Bev,” Richie grins, twisting his body to look into the crowd of people and leaning to speak into Eddie’s ear. Strictly speaking, Richie didn’t have to get too close in order for Eddie to hear him over the party music playing. Sue him. “A birdy told me she has a crush on your friend Ben over there.” Richie points at the boy in the crowd, who was currently speaking to Mike with Bill. 

“He’ll be happy to hear that,” Eddie pressed the cup against his lips, “She’s all he can speak about and they met for like, what ten seconds?” 

“Well,” Richie speaks again, directly into Eddie’s ear. A small shiver makes its way down Eddie’s frame in a way that Richie finds delicious. “Having feelings for someone can do weird things to you.”

“Maybe we should push them together then,” Eddie says suddenly. Standing a bit straighter. It surprises Richie in a way which pleases him, forcing him to stand up straight and (regrettably) moving away from Eddie in the process.

“Come on,” Eddie says, grabbing Richie’s arm and setting his sights on Ben. “No use having feelings if you’re not going to do anything about them.” He gives Richie a single, long, withering look before setting off towards Ben and tugging Richie along with him. 

Richie’s arm felt like it was on fire and all he wanted to do was burn to ashes for Eddie. 

He’d do anything for Eddie, really. 

__________________  
“I think things are going pretty well,” Richie whistles leaning against the wall and admiring Eddie’s handiwork. After marching over to Ben, Eddie had easily joined the conversation with Mike, promoting Stan and Bev to make their way over to the group as well. Once Bev had made her way over, Eddie had laughed particularly loudly at one of Richie’s wise cracks and stumbled backwards into Ben. Who then proceeded to bump awkwardly right into Bev and spill her drink. 

Many apologies later and a pile of paper towels left on the ground by lazy, drunk college students; Bev and Ben were talking on the couch, knees bumping. 

“What do you think?” He adds, looking over Eddie who’s flushed but looks happy. 

“Of course it's going great!” Eddie declares, speaking as if their inevitable relationship was fact and as if a tentative bond between the two was not being constructed as boys watched. “Ben’s a great guy, really. He’ll treat her well.” Eddie adds, softer and fond of his friend. 

Richie is immediately jealous, silently begging Eddie to look only at him with such an affectionate look on his face. 

“Hey,” he asks, fingers drumming on the wall habitually. “Are you warm? We can go sit on the fire escape or something?”

Eddie glances over at Richie, something unknown and mysterious in a way that sends a sharp spike to the small of Richie’s back. Seriously what was it that this boy had over Richie? A simple look sending Richie into a stupor, drawn closer to Eddie in a way that Richie craved but was not given permission to. 

He wonders if Eddie will always affect him this way.

(He does.)

(And later on, Richie is allowed to pull Eddie close to him.)

(Richie never lets go.)

“Alright, let’s go.” Eddie looks unafraid now. He looks set. Determined. Brave in a way Richie was not. Richie’s knees felt like jell-o. Eddie set his cup on the table next to him and began to push his way through the crowd, leaving Richie to helplessly follow. 

The two of them move into Bev’s bedroom, surprisingly absent of horny people but not empty. Instead, a few drunk students laid around the room chatting away from the loud music. Eddie made his way around to the other side of Bev’s bed and to the window that leads to the fire escape. 

“Are you gonna - ?” Eddie asks, gesturing helplessly towards the window. 

“Yeah yeah don’t worry,” Richie throws at him before grabbing his jacket off of a heap on the floor he previously left it in. He tugged on the jacket as he made his way towards Eddie, before opening the window and throwing one leg out onto the fire escape. 

“Don’t be scared,” He grins at Eddie before folding himself through the window and fully emerges on the other side of the window. For one, long moment the two boys stared at each other on other sides of the window. Cool wind whipped around Richie, reminding him that winter was just around the corner. 

Eddie stood on the other side, looking smaller than he usually did. His legs were cut off from Richie’s sight by the window and it reminds the boy distantly of their roles at the coffee shop. Cut off from each other by wood and fear and hope. 

“I’m not scared!” Eddie scowls, pushing himself forward and through the window. 

(He’s taking a chance, Richie registers, I gotta take one, too.) 

The two boys sat on the staircase, Eddie one below Richie trapped between his long legs and turned at an angle to look up at Richie with doe brown eyes. 

(If he even knew.) 

(Richie isn’t sure what love feels like but he’s pretty sure this might be it.)

The words press against Richie’s lips and threaten to burst out. Instead, Richie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a joint and lighter. “Do you smoke?” He asks, glancing down at the boy in front of him.

“I’ve never - no.” Eddie wrinkles his nose in a manner which shouldn’t make Richie’s heart flutter. A screwed up face was a daily facial expression for Eddie to make. But it did. Richie’s heart was fluttering. “I had asthma..well I thought I had asthma as a kid. I still have my inhaler, though.”

“Oh shit. Do you mind if I, uh,” Richie removed the joint from his lips and stashed the lighter back into his pocket. “Actually no I don’t have to. We’ve been drinking anyway so uh…”

“Can I try?” Eddie asks, doe eyes and all. “What’s it like?” Eddie snatched the joint out of Richie’s fingers and raised it up to eyelevel to inspect. 

“It’s nice,” Richie supplies, moving past the shock and into gentle understanding. Yes, this was the Eddie he knew. Headstrong and unafraid. 

“Better be. Do you know what smoking can do to your lungs?” Eddie seemingly approved of the joint and holds it in between two fingers like a cigarette. He holds it up to Richie, obviously expecting him to light it.

“Remind me?” Richie asks gently taking back the joint and placing it between his lips. Eddie’s eyes light up in a way that Richie likes, in a way that Richie was after all along. Eddie lit up when he was able to ramble through nasty symptoms and warn anyone near him about diseases. Richie loved that passion and had a funny feeling that he always would. He lit up the joint as Eddie began to speak, listening closely. 

“Okay,” He says after taking a few drags from his joint and holds it out to Eddie. “Try a hit or two. Gently. It’s easy. You just have to remember to take the smoke into your lungs, which isn’t exactly what your body is gonna want to do but you gotta do it anyway.”

“You know why your lungs don’t wanna take in smoke?” Eddie asks pompously but he takes the joint anyway and holds it up to his lips. 

“Yeah,” Richie laughs fondly. The wind whips through the city messing his curls. “You just told me.” But he’s too focused on the plush lips in front of him as Eddie breathes into smoke and holds it in his mouth. He exhales quickly, more opening his mouth and letting the smoke leave then blowing it out but whatever works works, Richie assums. Eddie coughs harshly, bending over and covering his mouth in the crook of his arm. 

“There you go! Just gotta cough it out.” Richie can’t help but rub Eddie’s back the material of his sweater soft beneath Richie's palm. “You’re a pro, Eds. Want me to take that?”

He reaches out but Eddie thrusts a palm in Richie’s face. “I’ve got this,” He says before screwing his face in determination and inhaling the joint once again. Richie laughs. Maybe it was the weed and the alcohol or maybe it was the intoxicating closeness of Eddie’s presence but Richie felt free and light for the first time in ages. 

Eddie is coughing again but Richie can’t help but continue to laugh delightfully as he pets the yellow sweater. It’s bright and good. 

(And Richie’s starting to be pretty sure that this is love.)

(This is it boys. All he’s got to give will go towards Eddie and Richie will choose him every single day.) 

Eddie sighs and leans against Richie’s leg, holding the joint up vaguely in Richie’s direction. “Oh,” he says softly. 

“That’s it, baby.” Richie breathes taking the joint. “It’s nice, right?” Eddie grunts but doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to. The city stretches out before them, impossibly vast. The fall breeze cools them down and brings forward a promise. Promise of what Richie isn’t sure but it’s something he’s excited to find out. 

Maybe Eddie’s rubbing off on him. Maybe Richie’s getting a little bit brave. 

“You make me feel calm,” Richie confesses out into the city air. Eddie stiffens between Richie’s legs but says nothing. “I mean I’m always jittery ya know? Always moving, but with you it’s different. I’m still moving but there’s less thoughts in my brain. More focus. I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

Richie’s voice trails off, his eyes still fixed on the orange horizon. He can’t see any stars from here but he knows they’re out there. He believes. 

“You make me feel alive,” Eddie’s voice cuts through the breeze. “I feel like I’m just floating through life sometimes. But you make everything sharper, more colorful. It lets me be brave.”

“You’re already brave,” Richie says, certain. He takes another drag from his joint and nods to himself. “You’re way braver than you think, man.”

Eddie twists himself to turn and look at Richie. “You think so?” He asks, looking soft and kind and impossibly perfect in a way that Richie’s heart aches. The air grows thick between them and Richie wonders if he has had enough drugs for the night. 

“Yes.” Richie whispers. He isn’t sure why he whispers. 

“No use having feelings if you don’t do anything about them.” Eddie breathes. He’s whispering, too. This moment feels sacred to Richie. Something he wants to hold and never drop - too afraid that it’s made of glass and would break.

Eddie is the one who breaks the moment. But of course he is. Richie would expect nothing less. 

Eddie propels himself up off of the staircase and up into Richie’s face before pushing his mouth clumsily against Richie’s. 

A thrill runs through Richie. He drops the joint, not caring where it lands and cups Eddie’s face like it's the most precious thing he’s ever held. He presses his lips back against Eddie’s unmoving ones. 

Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat before he starts kissing Richie for real. And, well, that’s all it takes for Richie. Richie kisses his boy once, twice, three more times before breaking into a wet smile. 

“Stop smiling, you’re ruining it.” He’s told but Richie decidedly disagrees. He thinks everything in the whole world is perfect at this exact moment. 

“Can’t.” Richie croaks, conceding to kiss Eddie again and again. It’s a moment before he can pull away to whisper “I’m really happy” against Eddie’s lips. “But not as happy as that one time your mom and I - ”

“Shut up!” Eddie yells in Richie’s face. Richie does not care. Not one bit. Eddie kisses him again, anyway. But Richie is pretty sure that that was going to be a common trend for them from now on. 

(It was.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone to read this story. It was my first one for this fandom and my first time writing in years. 
> 
> So really thank you so much!! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it. 
> 
> All my love,  
> Hazel

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I know this chapter is a bit short but I promise the others will be longer!!


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